


wind take me home

by callunavulgari



Category: Kingdom Hearts, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Another Life Fic, M/M, POV Second Person, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We could be beautiful together,” he says, long white fingers skittering over the sculpture—your ice and his darkness frozen together in swirls of black and silver. He looks at you and you can’t help but notice that while there is malice in his eyes, beneath that there’s an unfathomable loneliness, shaded to match that of yours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wind take me home

**Author's Note:**

> I said months ago when I first saw the trailer to this movie that I was going to write an Axel/Roxas next-life fusion to this. (Jack looks so much like Roxas that it's kind of ridiculous) And I was right. The movie made me have all the feels, I couldn't wait to have at my computer. The... end result is less of an Axel/Roxas fusion and more of an ode to Pitch and Jack. So you could read it as Axel/Roxas next-life fic, or you can just read it as a slightly AU retelling of the movie where Jack knew Pitch back when they were both human.
> 
> As for the Kingdom Hearts fusion side of things, I have this whole headcanon regarding on how Human!Jack was Sora and Jack Frost is pretty much a slightly happier but still clinically depressed Roxas. I also couldn't decide who I wanted Axel to be: Jaime, Pitch, Sandman, or the goddamn Easter Bunny. In the end, I settled on Pitch because it makes my hatesex kink tingle.

“We could be beautiful together,” he says, long white fingers skittering over the sculpture—your ice and his darkness frozen together in swirls of black and silver. He looks at you and you can’t help but notice that while there is malice in his eyes, beneath that there’s an unfathomable loneliness, shaded to match that of yours. “Look at what we could create together,” he whispers, fading slowly into the shadows, his smile the last to go.  
  
“Dark and cold, Jack, can’t you see?” he purrs, reappearing at your back—so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. You shiver. His breath is warm, it tickles the fine sprinkling of hairs there, making them stand on end. You wonder if he could burn you up—if he could melt you. He leans closer and you can see him out of the corner of your eye, a wraith of a creature, dark robes and skin shadowed grey and white, like fresh bruises.  
  
His hair is dark and despite his name, this surprises you. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind, a hint of a memory gone sour, but you can’t quite pin it down. Somehow, you’d have thought it would have been brighter.  
  
When he smiles, his cheek brushes against yours. “We belong together,” he tells you, and you feel his lips on your skin, so hot that you feel like the first frost of winter—thawing in the still-warm sun.  
  
You startle, because there’s memory there too, in that parody of a lover’s kiss.  
  
“So what do you say, _Jack_?”  
  
Your name isn’t Jack, you think. Your thoughts are listless and hazy, wrapped up in the memory of a dream, and when his lips touch your temple, hesitant and strangely gentle, you wonder if he knows something that you don’t. “People would know your name,” he breathes and your skin flushes with warmth. “You wouldn’t be invisible anymore.”  
  
You indulge in his fantasy. Your name on the lips of all the children in the world, not just a saying to be spoken over mittens and coats. No one would ever forget your name again. But you know how that story would go—your name would never be spoken in tones of reverence and wonder. You wouldn’t be remembered for snow days and snowball fights—you would be Jack Frost, ancient and powerful and cold, the boy prince who fell into bed with the nightmare king.  
  
Together you would be frightening, devastating, and yes, you would be beautiful.  
  
But, you think, a world without laughter wouldn’t be a world worth ruling. A world where fear ruled all—where the first snow of winter didn’t inspire laughter, but fear.  
  
He’s waiting expectantly, his lips moving down your throat, his body pressed flush against your backside. When you turn to face him, you can see the hunger in his eyes, yes—but neither are you blind to the disappointment as the motion breaks you apart. He presses closer once more, as if he's starved for the feel of your skin, his fingers moving beneath the hem of your hoodie, seeking the cold skin of your hips. You hiss at the burn, but you don’t move away.  
  
You want this, you realize suddenly. You want it more than anything you’ve wanted in your life—this touch that seems like it’s woven from golden sand—more than you want the children to see you, you want this creature to have you. You want him to hold you, his burning touch melting you to your very core. You want to breathe life into his blackened heart, but more than that, you want him to _believe_ in you.  
  
His fingers skate across your ribs, leaving a path of warmth behind that makes you think of frostbite. You want to say yes, you want to say always, you want and want and want—  
  
He kisses you and it makes you think of fire—of burning sunsets and cold rain and the color red.  
  
Reluctantly, you push him away.  
  
Saying no is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.  
  
.  
  
He will break you—break you and your staff—and toss you into an ice chasm; he will leave you there, to die or wilt, you do not know. He may plan on coming back for you once it’s all over, keep you as a spoils of war, or perhaps you’d also broken him, just a little bit, and snuffed out that warmth once and for all.  
  
When your memories are given back to you, you will be broken.  
  
But you will remember a man who wasn’t quite a man—someone with hair like a burning sunset and the boogeyman’s smile. You will remember your name and you will remember a promise that you didn’t think you could keep.  
  
You will wonder if he remembers.  
  
And then you will put the pieces of yourself back together and go.  
  
Whether you break him or save him in the end is entirely up to him.


End file.
